You get to be broken

When you are broken... you get to be. You are human. You will be broken. 

When you are broken...

You find yourself. You discover that you can BE more, that you ARE more. You find that even your greatest weakness can be used as strength, and you discover that who you are on your own, is so much better than who you were when you weren't. 

You learn to rise above. You will become intolerant of anyone who doesn't treat you with respect. And that is ok. That is perfectly acceptable. Don't ever let anyone tell you that it isn't. When you are hurt, shattered, and aching from the inside out, you gain a new perspective on life. A new outlook. Your eyes are opened to all of the things you weren't paying close enough attention to before. Like your individual beauty, the situations and atmospheres you thrive in, and your solidarity. 

You feel everything, and you will feel everything deeply. Normal sadness will seem like absolute devastation. Normal tears will flow in waves, and the simplicity of pure happiness will seem like it's the first time you've ever felt it. There is no shame in feeling what you feel to it's true extent. When you've bottled up your emotions for so long, there is a strange, but welcome, beauty in brokenness that gives you the power to feel again. 

Things will seem impossible in the beginning; Like a climb you can't find a good enough grip to make. Searching for the harness and safety net in the dark, because the blur that is change has completely clouded your view. The darkness that is losing something you love so dearly, can be overwhelming. But this is only the beginning. This is where your heart, mind and will to fight is put to the test. This is the part when you discover just how far you're willing to go to put the pieces back together, and take back what joy and happiness is rightfully yours.

You will find that you can be angry. Very angry. And It's really ok to be angry in the wake of the sorrow. Its normal. It's ok to ask questions in frustration, and to wonder why. When someone hurts you, you have the right to give your emotions the attention they deserve, as long as you don't unpack and live in them. Sometimes, your motivation to demand answers is the only way to get them. And, you always deserve answers. 

Being broken is a new beginning. It is starting over, and letting go of the suffering. It is taking time for yourself, and seeing the bigger picture. Your future matters, and being truly where you want to be in life is a big part of that future. Loving yourself and the decisions you make is a must. You cannot be satisfied with the goals you've set if you are constantly doubting your potential to succeed. Your vision is 100% your responsibility. You can make it happen, you can begin the healing process. 

You are not someone else's idea of you. You are not what someone else thinks of you. You are not what someone has heard, or what rumor someone has spread. You are not the names that someone calls you. When you tolerate abusive behaviors, and a negative lifestyle, you set the bar for how you want to be treated, and you absolutely DO NOT have to put up with being treated like garbage. Brokenness can make you weak, but you are still a person. 

Sometimes, the love and admiration we are constantly giving to others is the love we need to be giving ourselves. You can be broken, but you will not stay that way. You have no idea the immense power you hold in your own two hands. Heartbreaks heal. Time passes. Tears are dried. Grudges fade. Life goes on. Let it. Allow yourself to find peace. 

You will find what you are looking for. Even if the search takes a while. 

You will recover from the hurt, and endless nights of pain that seem as if they'll never subside. And as cliche as it may sound right now, you will be stronger because of it.

You will do the things you care about again. You will pick yourself up and find joy in all life has to offer. 

You will trust again. Maybe not right away, but it will come. Because honesty and sincerity are out there. You will find them. 

But most of all, most of all these things, brokenness doesn't last for an eternity. At the moment it may feel like such a long road, but you heart will be whole. You will love again. 

It's ok to love again. 

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Dearest teacher, thanks for taking a full plate

Thank you.

Thank for for doing one of the most difficult jobs in the world. One of the hardest. One of the most stressful, but one of the most rewarding.

Thank you for getting up every morning, even when you are totally exhausted from home demands, extra curricular activities and the hardships of life in general. Achieving that positive attitude and determined mindset every single day, because you know that eyes and ears of every age are eagerly seeing and hearing. Because you trust in what you do. Because you look forward to what you do. Because you are amazing.

Thank you for all of the undocumented time you so graciously put in to making learning an enjoyable experience for my children. The evenings and weekend days you spend in the classroom, prepping lesson plans, grading papers, wiping down desks and organizing test packets. So that everything will be spic and span, and ready for my children to walk in the door come that next morning.

You are a parent's biggest treasure. You serve an incredible purpose that not even words can fully describe. You comfort my children when I cannot be around. You wait patiently, and lovingly, for the day that light bulb finally comes on, and that student who has been struggling finally gets it. Those things don't just happen with anyone.

You are a hero, everyday. The world we live in now, almost feels as if nowhere is safe. Worry can easily fill a parent's mind at drop off. But, it is you, and your continuous will to go in that classroom, and protect my children, even when they are not your own. Learning safety procedures, and guidelines because the possibility of the inevitable is always out there. And without a doubt, or a question, you take it all on. Every bit of it. 

It takes a selfless and devoted human being to do what you do - To touch lives in a way that no one can. Your thrill for education is a lot of what keeps this world going. Thank you for supporting the kids who have a craving for knowledge, and spending extra time with the ones who can't help but struggle. For not giving up on the broken, and understanding the fragile. Thank you for a routine and ritual that opens hearts and minds to determination and success. 

Thank you for fighting for a field that is needed. One the world universe would not be the same without. For not giving up, or sinking to despair and finding another career, when an educational budget is so selfishly cut. Thank you for tying that knot, hanging on, and going for a swing. Thank you for staying, as if it ever crossed your mind to leave. 

Thank you for being overworked and underpaid, because even though the world knows you deserve so much more, you continue to love your job. You

Thank you, for not doing it for the money. For your contagious smile in the classroom, because you just never know when that might be the one thing a child needs to see. Your relentless efforts to make life better may be the only efforts a child will ever get. 

Thank you for all of the supplies you buy with your own hard earned money. The crayons, poster boards, decorations, folders, etc. The backpack for the child who can't afford one, and the jacket for the kid who is waiting daily at the bus stop in the brutal cold. Moments like those do not go unnoticed, and those children are never forgotten, and that, is because of you. 

But most of all, thank you for being who you are. Thank you choosing to give the gift of knowledge to others. Thank you for being a kind, loving human being who has a fire and passion for what they are doing. Please know that you are what this world will continue to need. It can never be said enough that you are appreciated. You are cherished and thought about on the regular. I know that you could never be truly thanked enough. But, thank you, for believing in the possibility, and progress of the future. For never letting their be a cap off on learning. For leading, and following when it's necessary. For never hesitating to take a full plate, when you don't think it's remotely possible to handle anything more. But most of all, for teaching - because when you do, you impact lives like mine, forever. 

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For any heart that life is breaking

You can put yourself first. You are allowed to want things. You can prioritize your needs. You can be a little selfish. You should be. You deserve to be. Make it a goal to advocate for the way that you feel. It's healthy, and 100% ok to take care of yourself and the things that make you feel alive. 

You don't have to be perfect. You can be flawed, and messy. You can make mistakes and have setbacks. It's normal to not have it all together, all of the time. Let yourself stop, exhale, and breathe the fresh air a little. If we were all perfect, life would be too predictable.

No one is asking or expecting you to take on the world. Sometimes, a little at a time, day by day, is worth far more than spinning so many plates at once. I know, during all the hustle, we can forget ourselves. We can forget that our well-being matters just as much as the tasks we're taking on. Do not forget, during all the chaos, to enjoy your life. 

Love who you want to love. Seriously. Love is an incredible thing. Be who you want to be. Be original, or be different. Be adventurous and explore new territory. Give yourself the happiness that you deserve, no matter how you have to get there. Sometimes, it takes one hell of a struggle to find your bliss. And happiness is far too rare these days to not own the strength you've gained, and the battle you've had to fight to get there. 

Forgive, but never forget. Shallow people will always try to hurt you. It's a fact of life that only the weak are fully satisfied hurting others. It's not ok to have to endure the pain, but it is ok to let it go. After all, letting go only benefits you. The strong. You can let go, and still remember. Not a soul in the world is going to blame you for the memories you choose to keep fresh, good or bad. Letting go heals you, but remembering is what protects you. "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." - Mahatma Gandhi

We are original. We are not mass produced. No person in the world is exactly like another, and that's incredible. It gives each one of us so much power to do the things we set our minds to. When life is pulling us in all directions, anxiety can takes over, causing a dreadful doubt to fill our soul. But in these moments, what we are feeling is still so beautifully individual. Even in the most difficult times, our struggle is singular. Which means we can handle it all in the way that we choose. In the way that is right for us. The uniqueness of individuality is not just for the good times. What makes each person different, makes them stunning. All of the things that we see... the downfalls, and imperfections, make us a perfectly molded shape of who we are. Who set the bar of what "normal" is? Normal, is different. And different, is good. No matter what that different may be.

Our mistakes, are just that. Mistakes. They are life lessons we learn from. These trials and hardships have only helped us become who we are today. We are where we're meant to be because of the bends in the road we didn't expect. Because of the heartaches. Because of any tragedy life threw at us. Sadness, and anger, can fuel the fire that mistakes create. Be bigger. Destroy any doubt in your mind that you should live in your slip-ups. No one deserves to feel eternally miserable because something didn't go as planned. We are all, every single one of us, muddling through to get it right. And we don't all succeed the first time. The right attitude, and the people will help you to understand that. 

We are all smart. Some are phenomenal with math, calculators and a sheet of paper, and some are simply street smart. Some can live through music, and have a beautiful harmony written in only moments. And some can collect the words of a novel to memory after a single skim of the pages. The beauty of the human brain is something else that makes us unique. What are we good at? You just never know. But we are all great at something.

Words can hurt people. No one is immune. Words can be used as weapons, and work as well as any gun. We've all been ridiculed, and lied to. We've been the victim of vicious rumors and gossip. And we've all, unfortunately, been the culprit at some point or another. But we are strong. Yes, strength comes from fighting for yourself. From standing up for yourself. From not giving in when the entirety of the world expects you to fall to your knees and surrender. Strength is building a shield with the bricks that others have thrown at you. It's coming back an even better person than you were before. And we can all do it. But we can't know the comeliness of even possibility if we don't try. 

Live life the the fullest. Seek adventure, and guidance when it is needed. Seek kindness and love. Seek truth. Never stop asking questions. We are all facing more than meets the eye, and that's not something to be ashamed of. Each battle that we fight, is a battle already won, because we were strong enough to try. This is life, and we only get one. But if we are living it right, one should be enough. 

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An open letter to the woman who chose pride over family

To my mother-in-law, the woman who was supposed to be like a second mother to me. The woman who I was supposed to be able to look up to, and talk to, without ever doubting whether or not she cared about myself, or my feelings. You were one of the many people I dreamed of meeting as a little girl - I knew when I met the man I was going to marry, his mother would be a huge part of my life. 

Well, I did meet you, and you did become a huge part of my life. But not in ways I ever dreamed. You gave me a story to tell. A hill that I cannot begin to explain what it was like to climb. You (somehow) unknowingly gave me every single example of what I hope to never be for my own children, and especially my daughter in law. Thank you for that.

You should know these things. 

You are missing out. You lost everything when you pushed me away. You lost everything the moment you deserted respecting me in exchange for a heap of lies and some petty bullshit. And incase you don't already know this, your grandchildren are amazing. Generally, I wouldn't want you to know a thing about them, but they're so amazing that it would be unusual for me to not mention it. Even to you. Besides, it isn't my fault that you have to live vicariously. They are two of the most breathtaking tiny people who have ever lived, and the fact that you would ever think that your pride was worth more than having any sort of relationship with them sickens me. The simplicity of how easy it was for you to make the decision was well beyond disturbing. But how good you must feel to still be sitting there, reaping whatever benefits you feel came out of the righteousness you so selfishly inflict on others. 

I do not understand you, and I probably never will. But I've come to find that I'm amongst many others. Luckily, for me, I don't have to try to figure you out anymore. I've wracked my brain many a night, wondering if I could have done something differently. Something to change the situation we find ourselves in today. Wondering how someone like you could feel so good, about such a terrible choice. How every single day you live your life as if your own son, and his beautiful children, meant nothing to you. Do tell the world what it is like to know you will only ever see your own flesh and blood through stolen social media photos, or an unexpected encounter in a store? 

I guess I can say that in some ways I've forgiven you. Because I know that I deserve peace. My children deserve for their mother and father both to have that peace. And even though you aren't a part of their lives, I know that they will see a mother who tried. They will see a mother who doesn't judge them, or want to hurt them. A mother who will fight for them, no matter what it costs her. My children will see a mother who supports their wants and needs, right down to the future family they make for themselves. I will always be there for them, because any other option would be absolutely ridiculous. I guess that's where you and I are very, very different people.

Thank you for teaching me that I am stronger than I thought. That I can handle whatever life throws at me. Yes, you taught me these things. You taught me that I am not wrong to stand up for myself. You taught your son that, no matter how difficult it is to believe some days, blood doesn't always make you family. Some of the most poisonous people can come disguised as members of your very own family. Thank you for bringing the man that I get to call my husband into the world. Because I can't imagine my life without him. And I'm still trying to figure out how you're doing it.

What you've done to me personally isn't what matters. I couldn't care less about how you feel about me anymore. At one time, when I valued you, things might've been different. But not now. What you've done to your own son, and his children flabbergasts me every time. I can't wrap my head around it, and I think that's probably a good sign. I find myself making totally different decisions had I been in your position. And yes, I've put myself there many times. The result has always been the same. My kids. Their kids. And a design of respect I can't even put into words. Every. Single. Time. 

It took me a very long time to realize that people like you are never meant to stick around. You're always running from something, or hiding behind the blame you so vindictively bury other people under. People like you are not good enough to be a part of the lives of my children. And I'm never going to be afraid to admit that it is pathetic, and sad. But I'm thankful that they will never have to know the pain, and I feel fortunate that our relationship was severed when they were small. 

I will someday explain everything to them, in exactly the way that they happened. I will not lie, and I will not sugarcoat the past to make it seem better than it was. Because it wasn't. There was nothing good about my experiences with you. I want my boys to know that it was your choice. That you made the decision. I want them to know just how important your opinions were to you. That you could look at their innocent faces, and still walk away, because you loved yourself, and your lies, a little too much, for there to ever be room to love anyone else. 

I am sorry. I am sorry that you made such a life altering decision. But I am not sorry you won't see my children grow into well-behaved, mature, young adults. You will continue to miss firsts and lasts, baseball games, birthdays, and milestones. You will miss their wedding, and the birth of their first child. You will sit behind a bottle of liquor and your computer screen, stalking, for the rest of your days, curled up in bed, feeling sorry for yourself. Blaming me. Blaming your son. Blaming the world for problems you could never take responsibility for. 

At what point in life do you become so narcissistic that something like never seeing your family again is a fair trade off? At what stage of denial do you get so desperate to be right that you would rather make a point, than be a grandmother to your grandchildren. I guess I will never know.

All of the things you've done don't give you any sort of power. They don't make you a victim, and they don't make me feel sympathy for you. I can't help you to understand what you've lost. That is not my job. But I can leave you with a simple one liner. That's something we writers like to do. 

I hope it was worth it. 

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You might be from a small town...

You might be from a small town if...

Everyone meets at a designated spot on Friday nights. Not a rave, not a club, and not some fancy upscale restaurant. A little old gazebo on a town square surrounded by a cute little hair salon, a cafe and a funeral home. 

Waking up for school an hour early, because you're on E, and have to get to the little two pump gas station before it gets too, "crowded." Plus, you just never knew when that one pump might be "out of gas." *click, click, click* Annnnddd.... DAMNIT!

Your graduating senior class never made it past a 2 digit number. 

"Driving around" was an actual thing to do. Not considered boring, uncommon or an unexpected thing. And only now, at 26 years old, do I wish I had back all the gas I wasted. 

When you had an older sibling that everyone knew, naturally they set the bar for you. You went by, so-and-so's little sister/brother. 

You could be called by your last name, and answer to it. Because there wasn't anyone else with that last name - Unless they were related to you. 

Everyone knows everyone. Literally. So, when a rumor starts, you knew it would only be a few short minutes before your parents heard it. And if you ever got into trouble and tired to hide it, just forget about it. You're going to be in deep shit at home. 

Mark my words when I say, someone, somewhere in that town, is family you never even knew you were related to. 

There are no fast food joints, or hole in the wall places. Except for the actual holes in the wall. And the nearest Walmart is at least 20-30 minutes away. 

Being in any sort of sport made you feel like a million bucks, because the bleachers were so small - but always so full. 

Your best friend wasn't anyone else's best friend. No one knew them like you did. Typically, that's anywhere, but best friends are different in small towns. They are the best friends who don't mind working concession stands with you so prom isn't a total bust. The ones who understand why driving up and down one road all night is fun. The ones who see Sonic for what it really is - The closest food that isn't from a gas station. 

If someone new moved to town, it was a huge ordeal. Not because they were disliked, but because they often came from bigger cities, and all you could think was, "how the hell did you find this place?" 

There was so little to worry about, that you were actually able to be hand picked, and sent home from school to change for having frayed holes in your jeans. Thought you'd try to sneak one in because it was the end of the school year, huh? Nope. Get your ass to the office and find a pair of sweats. 

The school's Homecoming parade route consisted of one tiny highway and a back road. And had to be done at 2 mph just so it would last. 

In a small town, there is no town moron. Everyone took turns.

And the nice thing about a small town, is when you don't know what the hell you're doing, don't worry. Everyone else does. 

When someone passes away, the whole town is shattered. Because yet again, everyone knows everyone. And in little towns like these, no matter how far it's people go or how long it's been, our strong bond always remains the same. 

Most teacher knew your parents, which meant you could never misbehave. And even when you tried to, the phrase, "I know your mom." In front of the entire class, was enough to shut you up. 

Two words. Pink slip.

Two more words. Church hoppers. 

Your town had no police station. Which made you feel an overwhelming sense of privileged youth and freedom. But if you ever thought that meant you couldn't get pulled over for drive 65 in a 40 with your convertible top down in the pouring rain, you were wrong. 

At some point in time, you honestly thought your school district could qualify for -1A.

It was never a surprise when someone married someone they grew up with, or divorced them. 

Several last names have become well-known, and a part of the towns history. 

Something no one from the city life could ever understand. Pot-holes. Good God at the potholes. 

And Friday nights aren't just about driving around. They're about football. Man, do small towns love their football. 

The only places where you can get actual directions based off of a stop light.

You decide to go for a walk to get some exercise, and 10 people pull over to ask if you need a ride. 

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But what happens in a small town can give you a whole new reputation. 

And you might be from a small town, if you can successfully, and accurately write a list, about a small town. 

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For you, dear girl

This is for you.

The tough girl. The girl who holds it together when everyone expects her to fall apart. The one who falls down seven times and stands up eight. You are the girl who is strong for everyone else. Who is the shoulder to cry on, because you know what it's like to not have one. The girl who is hard to love, and hard to understand, because she wasn't always the best at letting people in. The girl with the unbelievable amount of stubbornness, who people fear when she is angry, because they know she means business. You. That girl. The one who fights for everything and everyone she can, because the thought of anyone getting away with inflicting any kind of pain sickens her. 

The girl who finds it hard to feel anything, because the vulnerability of emotion absolutely terrifies her. This is for all the girls who have protective layers plastered around their heart, because people have been cruel and hurtful too many times before. The ones who find it hard to trust, because there isn't a feeling in the world like betrayal. You. That girl. The girl who walks on egg shells around the thought of ever giving herself to anyone else, because the thought of the potential for more pain is enough to crush her.

This is for all the girls who have had to build themselves up, because all other people have done is tear them down. The girls who have had their reputation ruined by the selfishness of other people, all out of sheer jealousy or judgments. The girls who have heard nothing but negativity their entire lives. Who were expected to be someone who they simply weren't. The girls who had to fight to become who they truly are, only to become the victim of more vicious gossip and lies. You. That girl. The one who had to hide out, because she felt it was better than facing what people said about her. The girl who was made to feel ashamed because she wasn't "like the others." Because she was "different."

For the girls who have to constantly put up walls to keep people out, from the fear of being broken again. The girls who have to set boundaries for everything, and even then it doesn't feel like its ever enough. You. The girl who has been hurt by everyone who ever told you they loved you. The one who has watched people walk out of her life and never bat an eye. The girl who learned what strong was because it was the only choice she ever had. You. The girl, who somehow, discovered that light trumps darkness, every single time. And found positivity and motivation to have faith in people, even when she thought there was no longer a hope for it. 

The ones who turn up the music so loud, it drowns out the pain, and the craving to scream until your lungs come out of your chest. The girls with the bandages on their forearms and the anti depressant on their dresser. You. The girl who sits in silence and contemplates what a world without her in it would be like, if anyone would even notice. The one who waves a red flag that no one ever seems to pick up on. A red flag and a cry for help that is so loud, and so distinct, it won't make sense to anyone else but us, when I say it's a tragic kind of invisible. This is for you, beautiful girl. 

For the girl who they call angry, and bitter. When all she really is, is afraid. And excuse you, for not allowing even one more person to toss you around and fuck with you emotions. The girl who stopped caring, and started doing things for herself. Who learned that sometimes, she once did too much for ungrateful, shitty people, and found herself in the process of that discovery. The girl who is made to think she is wrong because she finally gained a backbone and stopped allowing people to take advantage of her kindness, and willingness to go out of her way. You. This is for you, wonderful girl. 

This is for the girls who walked away when enough was enough. Who didn't take another second of the pain, and the ridicule. Who were made to feel crazy and stupid because they were doing what was right for themselves. The girls who put all opinions aside and stood up for what they wanted, and then suddenly became the bitch because they didn't roll over and die. Those girls. The girls who, after so long, became the ones who no longer tolerate the bullshit. Who learned that some people just don't care, and that there's nothing you can do to change them. You. The girl who built a world of strength with the consecutive bricks people threw at you. 

This is for you, wise girl.

The girl who takes the beating over and over again, physically or emotionally. Because she loves someone so much it feels worth the agony. Because she can't find a way out without being the one to severe ties. Because she feels like she would be losing if she packed her bags and left. The girl who is struggling day to day, looking for a way out of a brutal relationship that is slowly killing her soul. Falling to her knees every night wondering how in the world she never knew, years ago, that this was her future. The girl who lays in bed at night, next to a man, in a lifeless marriage, wondering when and where she will catch her break, and whether or not all the effort she has put in was ever worth it. Lying down, night after night, asking herself if she is at fault for all the madness. This is for you, amazing girl. 

This is for the girl who can't seem to conquer the battle. The battle of the morning mirror, where she cringes at the unknown-of beauty in her face and body. The battle of whether or not she ate too much, or met her goal weight. This is for that girl. The girl who can't stand the utter sound of the word perfect. Who hangs her head over the toilet after every meal because the feeling of any fullness is a demon she can't vanquish. You. That girl. The girl who skips meals, covers up with baggy sweatshirts and pops diet pills because you feel your body is rebelling against you. The one who looks at photos on the Internet of girls who you wish you could be. The evilness of envy that takes over your soul, when you're so hungry and so tired that you can no longer read the words on the screen. This one is for you, brave girl. 

This is for the girl who was helpless. The girl who said no. The girl who may or may not have had too many drinks. The girl who still blames herself for what a sick, twisted and heartless man did to her. The girl who buries her head in the sand because it feels better than having to actually face the real, raw anxiety of what happened. You. That girl. The one who lye awake in a dark room, with mascara tears running down your cheeks, trying to convince yourself out of what you knew had happened. The girl who tip toed around a new relationship because the history and heartache there wasn't so good. The girl who jolts out of her sleep in the middle of the night at the sheer feeling of anything out of the ordinary touching. You. That girl. The girl who sees it in her head the moment she closes her eyes. The one who wishes so badly that her past didn't define her, but somehow, some way, it always does. You.

This is for you, incredible girl. 

This is for the girl who was told and persuaded. Who was vividly groomed into believing. Who was forced into a life they didn't necessarily agree with, at a naive age when curiosity killed the cat. The girl who was forced into behaving in a way that was selfish and judgmental. That girl. The girl who spent her entire life bowing down and caving in to a lifestyle she never quite fit into. You. That girl. The girl with the open mind, who questioned everything and believed nothing without proof. Who is made to feel like less of a person because she didn't conform when she finally got away. That girl. The girl who grew and changed, and with great maturity, learned that sometimes the biggest wolf in sheeps clothing can be the individual you once idolized most. You, smart girl.

This is for the girl who wasn't high up on the radar. The girl who walked the halls of high school with her head down because she didn't have a place in any part of the puzzle. You. That girl. The one who didn't always have name brand shoes and fresh highlights in her hair. The one who was never really sure if she was being fooled, or just used. The one who had the one true friend, not the group of phonies. You, that girl. The one who always took the insults, for no reason. The lies and rumors people would start about you. You counted down the minutes until you could go home, lay your head down, and cry yourself to sleep. This. This is for you, dear girl.  

This is for you. The girl who made mistakes, and could never live them down. The girl who watched lines turn pink and her belly start to grow, as she picked up her backpack and left for school. The girl who was strong on the outside, but oh so weak on the inside. Who sat in the church pew on Sunday, and the classroom on Monday, while people wondered and simply walked away. No one asked you questions, they just assumed. The girl who ran out nauseated as people made their own judgments. The one who never knew that it was possible to love someone she hadn't met yet. The one who was forced into adulthood a bit earlier than she prepared for. You, girl. The girl who cluelessly held her own baby in her arms at 16, only to watch his father slowly disappear. The girl who had to be strong for herself, and her little boy. Who had to spin every plate she could to survive. You, incredible girl. 

This is for the girl who lost everything. Who was forced to put the one she loved, somewhere so dark, and so lonely, it almost didn't seem like it could ever be real. You. The girl who fell in love with a boy who was destined to leave her, and not in the way she could've ever imagine. That girl. The girl who at too young of an age, felt what it was like to have her heart savagely ripped out of her chest and buried under a hefty pile of cold, wet dirt. You are the girl who never deserved it, but was forced to feel what it was like for a heart to truly, medically break. This is for you, pretty girl. 

This. This is all for the girls. This is for the struggles and the heartbreaks. This is for the fear and the overcoming of it. This is for the pain and the sadness and the complications. This is for the girls who became who they are because they struggled. The girls who cried and waited and hoped for something better. The girls who became the women I'm writing to today. The girls, I am so proud to say, are my peers. Some of the most amazing women you will ever meet have fought a battle you know nothing about. And these, these are their stories. 

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Thoughts and Questions: Daily Mom

                                                      
Photo cred: Anna Angenend
We do not use the bathroom trash can as a step stool so we can climb on the counter. 

THIS is the toilet. This is not. *holds up toy box*

Why do you smell so ba.....ooohhhh.

No, daddy isn't home yet. 

No, we can't go outside naked when it's 30 degrees. 

Are you sharing your dinner with the cat?

Whoever thought of the candy aisles next to the register should be shot. 

And the little 25 cent shitty toy machines.

Do you want your butt spanked? (The awkward moment when they nod yes)

Are you going to be good in here, or are we going to have to desert and leave a full shopping cart like last time?

Do you need to go potty?

Do you need to go pee pee?

Why are you holding yourself then?

Do you need to go to the restroom?

Do you need to go potty???

Let's go pee pee.

Don't pee on yourself. Let's go use the potty.

Please don't do a somersault with no clothes on. Please don't. Annnnd you're doing it.

How did you find that app?! I hid it!

*holding camera* Sit still. Smile. Say "cheeeese." Take a picture with me. Wait, no, come back. LOVE ME!

Pick these damn legos up before I step on one. 

Did you just fart on me? 

STOP FUCKING WITH THE PILLOWS.

Hey, give me my phone back! 

Why don't you use that $200 iPad we bought you? 

How did you unbuckle that?!

When exactly did you, a 3 year old, get smarter than what you're working with?

Oh, look, there's my kid licking the window inside the playground at Chick-fil-A. 

Why are you so sweaty?

Don't pick your nose. Don't pick your nose. Don't pick your nose. Yep. You're picking your nose. 

Don't FaceTime anyone.

I get it. You know your ABCs. 

Stay in your seat. Do you feel like not having a mom today? Because I don't feel like going to jail today.

Why do you have more money than me?

Where did you put my keys?

Why do they even make stainless steel appliances? Finger. Prints. Everywhere.

Hershey kisses don't count as a breakfast option. *after 30 minute tantrum* Ok, Hershey Kisses are breakfast. 

Why are your hands wet? You didn't play in the toilet did you? 

So. Much. Laundry.

What is your obsession with the sink?!

How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet. Your little brother is asleep.

Why is your shirt on inside out?

Where is your other shoe?

Did you brush your teeth WITH toothpaste?

You don't have to get completely undressed to go pee. 

Stop throwing shit.

Why can you already use curse words in proper context but not tie your shoe? 

Stop messing with your brother. 

Don't climb on that. 

If you break that I'm going to end you. Thou giveth life though taketh away. 

Let's read a book together! ...Or we can just rip out the pages. That works.

But yesterday you liked peanut butter??!

You don't dip Cheetos in milk. That's gross. 

Did you eat anything at all? 

Stop kicking the seat. 

You've got the tune right, but those are not the words.

This is the 4th DVD player you've broken. 

What did you do to your hair?! I just fixed it!

I have no idea what you just said.

Don't pick your wedgie in public. 

Can you cut me a break today? 

Hey look! There's the Easter Bunny! 

Ok. This was a very bad idea.

You have on clean clothes. Please try not to get dirty. 

Let's try not to hit daddy in the nuts again, k? 

You did not just eat that...

Where did you put the remote?

Stop hitting the cat with that.

Don't tell me what to do. You're 3 not 30.

How can I get out of here fast without going near the toy aisle?

That's cat food. It's not cereal. 

Why can't you go follow your dad around for a while?

I need a Dr. Pepper.

Lots of coffee.

Wine.

Margarita.

Vodka.

Did I just find a dried up dead frog in the floor? Surely not.

Hey, a few little slips of toilet paper will do the trick. The whole roll is really not necessary.

Rocks. In the washing machine. 

Oh, cool you drew me something? Let's see...oh. Oh, you drew it on the wall. In the living room. That's greeaaat. 

Don't talk back. 

Wait, when did you get attitude?

We're going to be in and out of here. We're not buying anything extra. 

*drives home with light sabers flashing in the back seat*

Why are you getting that stuff out. You know you're not going to play with it.

Let's sit down and learn some new stuff today. Oh, you wanna throw the flash cards at me and play with my phone under a blanket instead? Cool. 

DON'T YOU DARE go running to that door. We don't have to answer every time the doorbell rings. Sometimes, I like to pretend we aren't here. 

Let's take a nap together. You're so sweet when you're wilted and snuggly. *2 minutes later* Child is flopping around and driving a race car across my forehead. 

Don't you ever get sick of Paw Patrol?

Wtf is a Chickaleta? 

Who bought that toy for you? Because I'm going to find them and kill them. 

It's family picture day! I can't wait to get some cute new pictures. I really need a new profile picture for Facebook.

Ok. I think this one is salvageable. *sets profile pic*

Use. Your. Spoon.

Baby wipes to clean the countertops. Don't mind if I do.

What is this and why is it sticky?

I know you think you're helping but you're making a bigger mess.

It's not the apocalypse if you can't wear those shoes.

You have to say what you want.

You're gonna break your neck one day.

That's hot. Don't touch it. 

I'm not opening another juice box. You already have two.

Oh, that banana has a brown spot. I forgot about the no brown spot, end of the damn world rule. 

Is it your bedtime yet? *only 8 AM*

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